


Sunlight and Shadow

by borrowedphrases



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Blow Jobs, M/M, Masturbation, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Semi-Public Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-23
Updated: 2016-12-23
Packaged: 2018-09-11 11:52:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,009
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8978542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/borrowedphrases/pseuds/borrowedphrases
Summary: Prince and in-training Paladin Ben steals a few moments alone with Lieutenant Poe Dameron.





	

**Author's Note:**

> For "silkbrickhouse"

The wood of the stable is solid and warm against Ben's aching shoulders, soothing and grounding in ways he needs. His entire right side is still throbbing slightly from training earlier, and though he has more duties to attend to, he does have some time before he has to move again. Besides, he always makes time to watch the Queen's Horse Guard ride in from their field drills when he can. The unit moves in perfect harmony as they crest over the hills and come in toward the stables. At the front of them all is Poe, barely needing to drive his mare at all for her to fly ahead of the rest of the company; the pair ride in harmony together, and many have commented that it often seems as if she possesses eight legs instead of four.

Ben hovers outside the stables after the riders file in. A tight knit collective, Ben often feels out of place when interacting with the group as a whole. Horse talk has never been something he was particularly well versed in, much to his father's dismay, he is conversational at best, vastly preferring ground combat to mounted. That is at least when he isn't being thoroughly trounced during training.

Most of the Horse Guard filters out of the stables, laughing and joking amongst themselves. A few glance Ben's way, but ignore him, and he's happy for that. He hates idle conversation with strangers, and very few of them know how to talk to him anyway, so it's more than mutual.

When Poe alone remains in the stable, Ben slips inside, sighing happily as the shaded area enfolds around him like a cloak. It isn't that much cooler in here, not with the doors on both ends open to the elements and dozens of well driven horse bodies radiating heat. Still, Ben prefers that sort of warmth to the direct blaze of the suns.

"Ben!" Poe flashes a bright smile at him as he settles Babe's saddle onto its rest. He wipes his hands off on his leather chaps, then launches himself at Ben. He tiptoes as he throws his arms around him, wrapping him up in a rib cracking hug that near knocks the wind out of Ben's chest. "I didn't think I'd see you for another fortnight! Your training must be going well?"

Ben winces as Poe releases him, one hand moving to grip at his bruised arm. He catches a glint of silver circled in a field of rich green on Poe's worn leather tunic, bright and shining and new, and juts his chin out toward it. "Not as well as yours, it seems. Lieutenant already?"

Poe smiles, wide and bright, his fingers moving to play with the little firebird emblem over his heart. "Yeah, well, they seem to like my style with Babe, and think that will translate well into command. Though I suspect your mother had something to do with it as well."

"Don't sell yourself short." Ben snaps, a bit more harshly than he means to. Then he sighs, his shoulders slumping forward, proper posture completely gone from his stance. It puts him a slight bit closer to Poe's height, though Poe still has to reach up to clasp a palm over Ben's bicep.

"You should take your own advice." Poe says softly, moving closer to Ben to lightly bump hips with him. "You know Sir Luke only drives you so hard because he recognizes that you have potential."

"I wish I had your faith in me." Ben sighs, shifting forward to lean against the gate to Babe's stall. The young horse moves toward him, butting her spotted chestnut and white head against his elbow. Without flinching or hesitating, Ben draws a slightly bruised apple out from inside his tunic, offering the treat to her and smiling gently when she happily takes it from him.

Across the stable, a grumpy huff sounds, accompanied by the sound of a hoof clapping against the floor. Bed turns his head, seeing his dad's old grey stallion practically pressing against the gate of his stall, sniffing at the air.

"I think Falcon is jealous." Poe says, a laugh coloring his voice. He reaches inside his hip pouch and fishes out a slightly bent carrot, using that to pacify the finicky old horse. He gives the stallion a gentle stroke across his nose, then turns back to Ben. "Look, I know training to be a Paladin is probably ten times harder than training for the Horse Guard, but you've got the skill, even I can see it, and I don't have a whisper of magic in my blood. Your uncle goes harder on you because he wants you to be the best you can be, that's all."

Ben sighs, rubbing at his sore elbow as he moves to lean back against Babe's stall. "I know, I just... I wonder if this is really what I'm supposed to be doing with my life. I wonder if this is the path I should be on. I wonder if I even _believe_ in the Powers I'm supposed to be working with, or what they represent."

Poe shakes his head as he moves away from Falcon. He grabs Ben by the dark cloth of his tunic with both hands, tugging him forward, then pulling him around and shoving him back against the wall beside Babe's stall. He lifts himself up on the toes of his boots, using his grip on Ben's tunic for leverage, and presses their lips together with almost bruising force. It's a dry, firm, unyielding kiss, one meant to hold Ben in place, to make him listen, to shut up his hindbrain and let his focus distill until there's only Poe.

Poe breaks the kiss slowly a few moments after Ben's hands have come up to rest over his forearms - not trying to push him away, just holding. His chest is firm against Ben's, a steadying pressure and weight. He smells like sweat and open sky and horse. There's dirt on his chaps and his hands, ground deep in under his nails. He's filthy from riding, but Ben finds it enticing, finds it "ruggedly handsome", as he overheard his mother the Queen describe his commoner father once when he was very young. With Poe he finally understands what she meant, though he doesn't like to dwell on his parents when he's being intimate with his love.

"You are a skilled individual, my Prince," Poe smiles as Ben rolls his eyes at the title, then presses more closely against him, his strong thigh lifting up between Ben's legs. "And I will have more than enough confidence in you so you don't have to worry about having it in yourself, if you wish."

There's a familiar smirk on Poe's lips, and Ben can feel the thrill of arousal start to creep down his spine. A physical reaction, and also a shifting in the energies surrounding them, a coalescence of magic that tingles across Ben's skin, exposed or not. Ben has always wondered if Poe can feel it too, though he's never been bold enough to ask; he's not even sure how he'd word the question anyway. Poe has no magic, he says, but Ben can feel the Powers _sing_ around him, granting him protection, granting him a radiance he doesn't need, but wholly deserves.

"Allow me to serve you, my Prince." Poe says in a thick voice as he gazes up at Ben with heavy lidded eyes.

Ben would protest again, ask to be called by name and not title, but then Poe is sinking to his knees on the straw covered floor, deft fingers working to unloop Ben's sword belt, and all Ben can do is bite his lip and stare. There's the soft clink of his metal belt loop against Poe's rank insignia, and the soft sound of leather cords being unlaced as Poe loosens Ben's trousers.

Ben covers his mouth with his hand when Poe's head moves forward to draw Ben's length into his mouth in one smooth, practiced motion. He glances side to side, checking the open exists to the stable to make sure they're alone, then lets out a soft whine through his nose, his head falling back against the beam he's supporting himself against.

It's been far too long since they've had a moment alone like this, without training nor familial nor courtly obligations. Ben has ached for Poe, yearned for him, pleasured himself between his bedclothes while thinking of his strong, sun-kissed arms, groaned into his pillow as he's spilled his seed over his own hands while thinking of Poe's much more strong and steady ones. He's gasped Poe's name at his peak, and hasn't asked for forgiveness from the Powers after finding his pleasure. He keeps it for himself, while thinking of his Poe, and nothing about that should need forgiveness. 

Poe swallows him down smoothly, humming around Ben's shaft when the head hits the back of his mouth. Ben has to suppress a cry of pleasure a moment later when Poe takes him down further, inside the tight pressure of his throat. His knees feel weak, his legs tremble, and one of his hands moves forward to thread long fingers in Poe's oily hair.

He doesn't last long, maybe a few minutes of Poe sliding back and forth over him. He has to bite the inside of his cheek when his pleasure crescendos, jerking once into Poe's mouth as he spills, his entire body feeling alight with energy, shocks like subtle lightning dancing across his skin, both exposed and clothed.

Poe holds still while Ben twitches through his climax, his hands a steadying weight against Ben's hips. When Ben is finally finished, Poe slowly slides off him, grinning close-mouthed up at Ben before turning his head and spitting onto the floor.

Ben feels a wave of aggression shudder through him as he watches Poe draw the Cuneus symbol on his forehead and softly mutter the prayer of forgiveness to the Powers. Ben doesn't care if it's wasteful to find pleasure in this way; being with Poe is everything to him, and he'll revel in it, without false lip service repentance.

Poe gently tucks Ben back into his trousers before rising from his knees and wrapping his arms around him. Ben doesn't hesitate to return the embrace, his arms circling tight around Poe, his head bowed with his nose pressed to Poe's neck. He smells like riding and the earth and normal mundane things, and Ben is going to drink in every moment he can with his lover before he has to return to the scent of crackling energy and old holy books.

"I have to go." Poe sighs out as he pulls away from Ben, lifting himself up to kiss sweetly at Ben's lips once more. "Your mother will skin me alive if I'm late for Orders."

"I know." Ben sighs, tugging Poe in close for one last small kiss. "My uncle will be wondering why I've taken so long getting washed up before our preparations for evening prayers."

They separate from one another slowly. Reluctantly. The very tips of their fingers still lingering together for a long moment before finally parting. Ben walks backwards out of the stable, watching Poe's back as he heads off towards the guardhouse. He can already hear Sir Luke's gentle voice scolding him for his lack of discipline, but he doesn't care. He can still feel Poe's lips against his own, still smell the sweat of his skin.

The sun has settled to the horizon, and it's not so bright when he emerges from the stable. A jittery looking stable hand gives him a bow so deep the poor boy nearly falls over. Ben's pleasure is further waning, and with it any hint of good mood. A carrion bird flies overhead, it's inky black wings spread out wide in a sharply angled V. Ben watches the bird wistfully for a moment, then turns and head back toward the Tower.

**Author's Note:**

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End file.
